Second Sunday of Lent

 

 

 

THE MYSTERIOUS REASONS OF THE HEART

 

Introduction

In popular language, to fall for someone is synonymous with falling in love. The momentum of love does not deny the rational, but goes beyond it, ranges over new horizons, and soars towards a world of unexpected emotions.

Faith is a conscious decision. Jesus reminds those who wish to become his disciples: “Do you build a house without first sitting down to count the cost, to see whether you have enough to complete it?” (Lk 14:28). But it is also a complete and unconditional trust in God, a constant inclining towards him and therefore requires a detachment from this world and its logic. It is losing one’s head.

Francis of Assisi, who, during the crusade, helplessly presented himself to the sultan, was mocked and mistaken for mad by the crusaders. He was not crazy; he followed a different logic. He was in love with Christ and believed in the Gospel.

In the language of the Old Testament, losing one’s head is associated with half-sleep or dreaming. During Adam’s sleep, Eve is created (Gen 2:21); when the torpor falls on Abraham, the Lord comes to make a deal with him (today’s First Reading); on the Mount of Transfiguration, the three disciples contemplate the glory of the Lord when they are asleep (today’s Gospel). It almost seems that the weakening or blunting of a person’s faculties is a prerequisite to the revelations and intervention of God. It is true: only he who loses his head for Christ can believe that dying for love leads to life.

 

• To internalize the message, we repeat:

“To the Lord, I have committed my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

 


First Reading: Genesis 15:5-12,17-18

The Lord God took Abram outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can. Just so,” he added, “shall your descendants be.” Abram put his faith in the Lord, who credited it to him as an act of righteousness.

He then said to him, “I am the Lord who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land as a possession.” “O Lord God,” he asked, “how am I to know that I shall possess it?” He answered him, “Bring me a three-year-old heifer, a three-year-old she-goat, a three-year-old ram, a turtledove, and a young pigeon.” Abram brought him all these, split them in two, and placed each half opposite the other; but the birds he did not cut up. Birds of prey swooped down on the carcasses, but Abram stayed with them. As the sun was about to set, a trance fell upon Abram, and a deep, terrifying darkness enveloped him.

When the sun had set and it was dark, there appeared a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, which passed between those pieces. It was on that occasion that the Lord made a covenant with Abram, saying: “To your descendants I give this land, from the Wadi of Egypt to the Great River, the Euphrates.” —The Word of the Lord.

 

The dream of all desert nomads is to own land where no water is extracted from wells but falls from the sky; a land where the regular and abundant rainfalls permit to cultivate wheat fields, vineyards, and fruit trees; a land where people settle and live in peace permanently, with their families as Prophet Micah says, “sitting in peace and freedom under a fig tree or a vine of his own” (Mic 4:4).

Abraham is one of these nomads. He started from a far country. For years he moved from place to place like a traveler without destiny. He is old and childless. His life seems poised to fail. But one day, he receives the revelation of the Lord who promises what he always wanted but has never been able to get: a land (vv. 7,19) and numerous descendants as the stars of heaven (v. 5).

Why has God taken the initiative to make these promises to Abraham? Why to him and not to others? Was he perhaps the best of the men on earth? The rabbis of Jesus’ time—they were convinced that the Lord granted favors only to those who deserve them—argued that Abraham had attracted the blessings of God because he practiced mercy and justice.

It is a gratuitous assumption. The Bible does not mention any good work of Abraham and presents the call and the promises as a gift from God. Abraham had one posterior but not antecedent merit: “he believed the Lord who because of this, held him to be an upright man” (v. 6). The first time that the Bible says a man had faith in God is about Abraham. In Hebrew, the verb that we translate ‘believe’ means to rest on a solid foundation, stable and safe. It does not indicate an intellectual adhesion to some dogma but an unconditional trust in a person. A graphic image may be that of a bride: when she states that ‘she believes in her husband,’ she means that she blindly trusts him, puts in him all her hopes, entrusts him her future and her own life.

Abraham heard God’s voice, abandoned himself in his arms, gave him credit, and was sure that he would not be betrayed. This faith “credited him to be an upright man” (v. 6). It is an important statement, also echoed in Paul (Rom 4:3; Gal 3:6). God considered Abraham righteous, not because he saw him perform virtuous and meritorious deeds, but because he has established a right relationship with the Lord: he trusted his word, his promise, remained firm even when appearances could cause him to think otherwise.

The reading describes the Lord’s response to this faith: God performs a ritual to approve it after making his promise. Among Mesopotamia’s ancient people, solemn pacts were concluded with a solemn ceremony: an animal (a cow, a goat, or a sheep) is taken and quartered. Then, those who engaged in the oath of allegiance passed among them the pieces of meat pronouncing this formula: ‘If I betray the covenant, I will be torn to pieces like this animal.’

In the second part of the reading (vv. 9-17), God strengthens his words making this rite of an alliance. Everything happens in a mysterious vision. Having made the promise, the Lord instructs Abraham to kill the animals and dispose of meat on either side of a path; then, like a flame of fire, he passes through the victims.

Note that only God makes the gesture of the covenant; Abraham does not pass between the meat of the animals. The promise of God is unconditional; he does not claim anything in return. He knows he cannot ask for anything because the sons of the patriarch will often be incredulous and unfaithful. During the exodus, they will even think that the Lord led them to the desert to kill them (Num 14:1-9).

God is faithful to his promises. The prophets present God as the faithful husband always and in every case, even when the wife cheats on him (Is 54:5-10). His love does not give up in the face of any treason.

 


Second Reading: Philippians 3:17–4:1

Join with others in being imitators of me, brothers and sisters, and observe those who thus conduct themselves according to the model you have in us. For many, as I have often told you and now tell you even in tears, conduct themselves as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction. Their God is their stomach; their glory is in their “shame.” Their minds are occupied with earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with his glorified body by the power that enables him also to bring all things into subjection to himself.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, in this way stand firm in the Lord. —The Word of the Lord.

 

When we hear of the ‘enemies of Christ,’ perhaps we think of atheists and the members of fanatical cults who behave dissolutely. In the passage of Paul’s letter that we read today, the enemies of Christ identified are within a group of Christians in the community of Philippi. The apostle says that “their belly is their God and they feel proud of what should be their shame. They only think of earthly things” (v. 19).

What is their sin? The expression reminds us of sensuality, the unbridled pursuit of the pleasures of food and sex. Paul is probably referring to the error of those who reduce faith to the observance of traditional practices such as circumcision, abstaining from certain foods, fasting, and exhausting privation. As Paul points out sarcastically, it is about behaviors that have some reference … to the belly.

At this point, we wonder if to be ‘friends of the cross of Christ’ we must suffer, mortify ourselves, make sacrifices, and give up all that is pleasing. To mortify means to let oneself die, but we want to live, not die. Death, whatever aspect it assumes, appears to us as evil. But not everything that to us seems life is really life.

The friends of the cross of Christ are called to give up only what is not life. Paul states that this is the only wise choice: “Our citizenship is in heaven” (v. 20), and the transfiguration of our lowly body awaits us. Faithful to the biblical thought, the apostle does not speak of the destruction of the body—as in Greek philosophy—but a metamorphosis of the whole person that becomes like the glorious body of Christ.

Therefore, those who turn their eyes to this land as if it were a permanent home and make the ‘belly’ their God are wrong. In this world, man is a foreigner, a nomad like Abraham.

 

Gospel: Luke 9:28b-36

Jesus took Peter, John and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white. And behold, two men were conversing with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem. Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep, but becoming fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As they were about to part from him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good that we are here; let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” But he did not know what he was saying. While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” After the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. They fell silent and did not at that time tell anyone what they had seen. —The Gospel of the Lord.

 

This passage is sometimes interpreted as a brief preview of the experience of paradise, granted by Jesus to a group of friends to prepare them to endure the ordeal of his passion and death. One should always be very cautious when approaching a text of the Gospel because, at first glance, it seems to be a chronicle of facts. A closer look often reveals a text of theology drawn up according to the canons of biblical language. The account of the Transfiguration of Jesus reported almost identically by Mark and Matthew is an example.

We will focus on some significant aspects that are found only in Luke’s version. This evangelist alone specifies the reason why Jesus goes up the mountain: he goes to pray (v. 28). Jesus usually spends much time in prayer. He did not know how his life would be; he did not know what destiny was waiting for him; he gradually discovered it through the enlightenment he received during prayer.

It is in one of these intense spiritual moments that Jesus becomes aware that he is called to save people, not through triumph but defeat. Halfway through his Gospel, Luke starts to reveal the first signs of failure: the crowd, at first enthusiastic, abandon Jesus, some take him for a celebrity and some others for a subversive, and his enemies plot to kill him. It is understandable that he now asks himself the way that the Father wants him to tread. For this, ‘he goes up the mountain to pray.’

During prayer, the aspect of his face changes (v. 29), not as the other evangelists narrate. Luke does not speak of the transfiguration but a change of the aspect of his face. This splendor is the sign of the glory that wraps one who is united to God. Even the face of Moses became brilliant when he entered dialogue with the Lord (Ex 34:29-35).

Every authentic encounter with God leaves some visible traces on the face of the person. After the celebration of the Word lived intensely, we return to our houses more joyful, more serene, smiling, and willing to be tolerant, understanding, and generous. Even our faces are relaxed and seem to emit light.

The light on Jesus’ face indicates that, during prayer, he understood and owned the Father’s plan. He understood that his sacrifice would not be complete with defeat but in the glory of the resurrection. During this spiritual experience of Jesus, two characters, Moses and Elijah (vv. 30-31), appear. They are symbols of the Law and the Prophets; they represent all the Old Testament. All holy books of Israel have the purpose of leading to a dialog with Jesus; they are oriented toward him. Without Jesus, the Old Testament is incomprehensible, and Jesus, without the Old Testament, remains a mystery. On Easter day, to make his disciples understand the meaning of his death and resurrection, he will refer to the Old Testament: “Then starting with Moses, and going through the prophets, he explained to them everything in the Scriptures concerning himself” (Lk 24:27).

Mark and Matthew also introduce Moses and Elijah, but only Luke records the theme of their dialog with Jesus: they spoke of his exodus, his passage from this world to the Father. The light that revealed to him his mission came from the Word of God in the Old Testament. There, he discovered that the Messiah was not destined to triumph but to defeat; that he must suffer much, be humiliated and rejected by people, as is said of the servant of the Lord (Is 53).

The three disciples: Peter, James, and John, understand nothing of what was happening (vv. 32-33). They were sleepy. Having climbed up the mountain, they were tired, and the scene occurs in the night (v. 37). Let us take note of a significant aspect: in moments that recall the passion and death of Jesus, these three disciples are found sleepy. In the garden of Olives, they sleep (Mk 14:32-42; Lk 22:45). It is strange that in crucial moments, their eyes are heavy.

Biblical authors often symbolically used sleep. Paul, for example, writes to the Romans: “This is the time to awake … the night is almost over and the day is at hand” (Rom 13:11-12). With this pressing reminder, he likes to shake the Christians from spiritual lethargy; he invites them to open their mind to understand and assimilate the moral proposal of the Gospel. In the passage, sleep indicates the inability of the disciples to understand and accept that the Messiah of God must pass through death to enter his glory. When Jesus performed miracles, when the crowd acclaimed him, the three apostles were all awake. But when he starts talking about the gift of life, the necessity to occupy the last place and become servants, they do not like to understand; slowly, they close their eyes and start to sleep.

The three tents are the most difficult detail to explain (the evangelist notes that not even Peter understood precisely what he was talking about). The one who builds a tent wants to fix his abode in a place and not move around, at least for a time. Jesus, instead, is always on the go. He must fulfill an ‘exodus’—today’s Gospel says—and the disciples are invited to follow him. The three tents perhaps indicate the desire of Peter to stay put into perpetuating the joy he experienced in a moment of intense prayer with the Master.

To better understand it, we can relate to our experience: after a long dialog with the Lord, we do not like to return to our daily lives. The concrete problems and uncertainties that we must confront cause us fear. We know that listening to the Word of God is not all. We cannot spend our whole life in church or retreat houses. It is necessary to get out to encounter and serve our brothers and sisters, help those who suffer and be close to anyone who needs love. After having discovered the way to go in prayer, we need to put ourselves on the way with Jesus, who goes up to Jerusalem to offer his life.

According to the biblical language, the cloud (v. 34), going down from the top of the mountain indicates the invisible presence of God. Above all, in Exodus, the call to the cloud is very frequent. Moses enters the cloud that covers the mountain (Ex 24:15-18), the cloud goes down on the tent of meeting, and Moses cannot enter because the Lord is present (Ex 40:34-35).

Peter, James, and John were therefore introduced to the glory of God, and there they had an illumination that made them understand the way of the Teacher: the conflict with the religious powers, the persecution, passion, and death. They become aware that their destiny will be the same, and they are afraid. From the cloud, a voice comes out (v. 35). It is God’s interpretation of all that will happen to Jesus. For people, it will be a defeat; however, for the Father, Jesus is “the elect,” the faithful servant whom he favors.

God is pleased in the one who follows his word. Listen to him—the voice from heaven says—even when he seems to propose complicated paths, narrow roads, paradoxical and humanly absurd choices. At the end of the episode (v. 36), Jesus is there alone. Moses and Elijah disappear. This shows the function of the Old Testament: to bring it all to Jesus and to make people understand Jesus. In the end, the eyes must remain focused on him.

It is not easy to believe in the revelation of Jesus and to accept his proposal of life. It is not easy to follow him in his ‘exodus.’ To trust him is very risky. He indeed promises a glorious future, but our experience here and now is rejection and suffering. The seed thrown on the ground is destined to produce much fruit, but today, the seed must die to itself. When and how will we assimilate this ‘wisdom of God’ so contrary to human logic?

The answer comes from the annotation, apparently superfluous, at the beginning of today’s Gospel. According to Luke, eight days after the episode of the “transfiguration,” Jesus dramatically announced his passion, death, and resurrection, then eight days after that, he proclaimed the conditions for his discipleship: “renounce yourself and take up your cross every day” (Lk 9:22-27).

The eighth day for Christians has an exact meaning. It is the day after the Sabbath, the day of the Lord, in which the community meets to listen to the Word and break the bread (Lk 24:13). Here is what Luke means with the call to the eighth day: that every Sunday, the disciples who gather to celebrate the Eucharist go up the mountain; they encounter the face of the transfigured Lord, the Risen One; they verify in faith that his “exodus” is not over with death, and they hear again the voice from heaven that invites them: Listen to him!

Peter, James, and John coming down from the mountain, “kept this to themselves at the time, telling no one of anything they had seen” (v. 36). They could not speak about what they did not understand; the exodus of Jesus was not yet fulfilled. We, today, coming out of our churches instead, can announce to all what our faith made us discover: the one who gives life for love enters in the glory of God.